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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25117024">The Prince and the Serpent</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/IneffableDoll/pseuds/IneffableDoll'>IneffableDoll</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Ineffable Confessions of Love [14]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman &amp; Terry Pratchett</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>"how many cliches?" "all of them", Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Human, Asexual Aziraphale (Good Omens), Asexual Crowley (Good Omens), Asexuality, FAIRYTALE CLICHES, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Gardener Crowley (Good Omens), Humor, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Prince Aziraphale (Good Omens), Princess and the Frog elements, Romance, Romantic Comedy, Snake Crowley (Good Omens), True Love's Kiss, hecka romance, it's nearly impressive how dumb they are, the denial is strong with these two, they're so stupid</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 08:29:34</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>11,149</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25117024</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/IneffableDoll/pseuds/IneffableDoll</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The witch’s expression was downright evil. “You’ve heard of True Love’s Kiss, haven’t you?”<br/>Anthony stared at her. If he’d had eyebrows instead of being a snake, they’d have touched his hairline. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”<br/>~<br/>This is a magical rom-com about an idiot besotted snake and an idiot besotted prince very loosely inspired by The Princess and the Frog, what do you want from me?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Ineffable Confessions of Love [14]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1714558</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>175</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Aspec-friendly Good Omens, Good Omens Human AUs</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is my first Human AU – er, Snake AU as well for a bit there but shut up – so it was a fun thing to try! I’ve been fretting over it for more than a month now, and I’m a bit nervous to finally shove it out into the world. I very much hope you like it!<br/>Also, for the first time, I have the honor of thanking someone for beta-ing my story, the wonderful <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Libbyfay/pseuds/Libbyfay">Libbyfay</a> ! Thank you so much! &lt;3</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>           No one really plans for the day they get turned into a snake.</p><p>           And perhaps, had Anthony J. Crowley known that this was the day, he might’ve treated it with a bit more importance and pomp. Dressed to the nines or at least the eights, perhaps bothered to swipe the dirt from the knees of his breeches and do more with his hair than a loose bun at his nape. Not every day you get cursed, after all; it’s a big deal.</p><p>It wouldn’t matter much, though, since he would ultimately be turned into a snake and dressing up would be for naught, but nonetheless, a bit of forethought would be appreciated.</p><p>           As it was, he was oblivious to his impending fate and instead wandered the forest beyond the castle grounds with all the obliviousness of one who has no idea they’re going to be a snake later, which is really all we could hope for in this situation.</p><p>           For a gardener working on the lands of the queen, Anthony was not a fan of forests. He liked order and discipline. Plants had not been made for the sort of reckless behavior he saw in the wild – er, well, maybe they technically were, but Anthony didn’t want to see it. It made his skin itch to be in a forest, all the bushes and foliage with so much potential, just basking about, lazy and pathetic. He ached to give them a good talking to, but he’d run his voice ragged if he took on the entire countryside, so he restrained himself with withering glares.</p><p>           The forest was also a great place to find new plants to, well, trans<em>plant</em> into the palace gardens, if you’ll excuse the pun. Anthony wasn’t proud of it but made a mental note to tell Azra later.</p><p>           As he walked through the forest, dodging great oaks and pines, branches and pine needles and cones crunching under his soil-caked boots, he kept an eye out for anything interesting he could make use of. There was a corner near the fountains that looked like it was in need of a bush and while, of course, he could have had something ordered in or even planted a seed from another bush to raise, this was just how Anthony worked. Anthony adopted new plants, and he made sure they obeyed and did as they were told. It was about the satisfaction of the work.</p><p>           And maybe his mind wandered slightly, thinking of how Azra always insisted on exclaiming over Anthony’s work, <em>and oh he’d never seen this kind of plant before</em> and <em>wow Anthony, this is just brilliant</em> and <em>where in the world did you find something so unique?</em> Maybe he thought about how Azra’d flash a smile at Anthony, all bright grey eyes and blonde eyelashes. But, well, that wasn’t too much of a factor.</p><p>           Even Anthony could admit it was <em>somewhat</em> of a factor.</p><p>           But it was only a factor because Azra was the prince. Yup, that’s entirely why.</p><p>           Anthony stopped abruptly in his search when he noticed a small house some ways through the forest, just peeking out an eave among the clutter of shrubberies and bark. He blinked and squinted. Yup, that was a house. In the middle of the woods.</p><p>Yes, that didn’t seem suspicious or off-putting at all and definitely wasn’t the inevitable inciting incident to every unwanted adventure, a hut in the woods and someone just a bit too curious to walk in the opposite direction.</p><p>           He approached it, because of course he did, because he was Anthony J. Crowley and he wasn’t scared of cabins in forests, thank you.</p><p>           It wasn’t much to speak of, from up close. “House” or even cottage would be generous; it was more of a shed, with weathered dark planks half encapsulated in moss. From the eaves and scattered in the small clearing around it were all sorts of strange occult memorabilia, hanging dried herbs, wards against evil, so on. He was fairly certain the “Beware the Witch!” sign was just for decoration.</p><p>           Beside the “house” was an apple tree.</p><p>           Anthony raised his eyebrows slightly at the sight, folding his arms as he hung back from the edge of the cluttered clearing. Apples were hardly native to the area, so he’d not seen one since he’d traveled to the kingdom westward when Azra asked (begged) him to come with the royal procession to this dreadful annual ball the west kingdom was so fond of. Their king, Gabriel, was a right bastard and Azra hated going to them. Didn’t help that Azra was about the worst dancer anyone had ever seen. Anthony was more than content to stay out of it (not that he could have participated, anyway) and hang out with Azra before for courage and after for comfort. It was just how they did things.</p><p>           Ah, he was thinking about Azra again. Focus.</p><p>           He glared up the gorgeous, red apples that dangled heavy and sweet-smelling, an aroma of half-baked skins after the heat of early summer. Which was decidedly not the season for apples, either.</p><p>           It was definitely the work of the witch that apparently lived here, obviously. Logic dictated that any average civilian would turn tail and walk away from the mysterious witch’s shed and probably also assume, correctly, that apples and witches were a combination that did not bode well for the consuming party. You’ve read fairytales.</p><p>           Anthony J. Crowley did not read fairytales, and he also lacked any sense of self preservation, and, as one may note, this was the day he got turned into a snake.</p><p>           Ever curious and endlessly spontaneous, and more than a little daft, Anthony approached the tree, squinting at it as though it may reveal all its secrets if he just glared a little bit harder. Funny, plants usually reacted a bit better to that sort of encouragement.</p><p>           He shrugged, plucked an apple with a light tug from a low-hanging branch, and swiftly took a bite of it.</p><p>           He registered that this was a mistake the same moment the juices stung his tongue with bitterness and an acrid smoky tartness, which was also the same moment that the world fell out from under him.</p><p>           He tried to shout something, but found suddenly that he was plummeting, sinking, before landing with a thud against the ground. His limbs contracted, bones fused and cracked in a method that was rather more grotesque than the modern preference for an obscuring puff of smoke as the camera pans down. His spine seemed to constrict and stretch and skin hardened, stratified, darkened to the darkest blacks, and it was <em>uncomfortable</em> to say the least.</p><p>           If he could have blinked in surprise, or perhaps screamed in horror, he would have done so. However, as snakes lack eyelids and the ability to scream, he did neither and found himself writhing in shock and bewilderment on the ground.</p><p>           He was a snake.</p><p>
  <em>Lovely.</em>
</p><p>           He had no idea what to do. He was a <em>snake.</em> A serpent, if one was to be loquaciously generous and perhaps preserve the dignity of the relatively small specimen that squirmed under the apple tree. It didn’t take a genius to see that the dumb apple was to blame for this predicament, and naturally his first question was <em>why</em>, but more pressing was probably learning how to navigate with the new body.</p><p>           He lifted his head up slowly, fully aware of how every movement was like a protest against his inner workings, whatever those were. Anthony didn’t know anything about snakes. He saw garter snakes now and again, but those were harmless and also, he didn’t <em>become them.</em></p><p>           Anthony J. Crowley was used to the consequences of his very stupid actions, and so, he calmly assessed the situation best he could.</p><p>           He was lying in dirt and sticks and covered in scales. His lithe body was also thin and short, the length indiscernible among the looping coils, and his belly appeared to be some sort of teal shade. He flicked his tongue out experimentally, driven by some instinct to confirm his surroundings, and felt the flicker as a ticklish sensation against his approximation of lips.</p><p>           He tried to laugh but instead hissed. His tongue also smelled the overwhelming sweetness of the apple nearby, and he wiggled a bit to approach it.</p><p>           It was the same teal-ish color as his stomach, rather than the bright red he’d seen with human eyes. Glancing around, he saw that most everything landed somewhere along the lines of blue and green and monochrome. He could feel a little squeamishly the way his eyes rotated about, not with pupils, but with vertical slits. He couldn’t look up or down, just left to right, and had to turn his head to see the sky darkening between the canopy of leafy limbs.</p><p>           The moment really, truly caught up to him that <em>he was a snake</em> at the same moment the door to the shed opened.</p><p>           The woman who stepped out would’ve been marked as a witch even without the sign and the metal medallions hanging around her home and neck. She wore a teal dress – though who knew what color it actually was, what with the snake eyes – and had long dark hair tumbling to her waist.</p><p>           She glared at the tree and pushed up her glasses, scrunching her eyebrows in scrutiny. Her line of sight immediately dropped to where Anthony was wiggling and staring (staring was all he could do. No eyelids).</p><p>           “Typical,” she commented as she pursed her lips slightly. Her voice sounded strange through snake ears – do snakes have ears? Must do. How they hear other snakes – almost more like a vibration through the air than words forming in audible syllables. “You came across a witch’s cottage and ate one of her apples. How stupid could you be, really?”</p><p>           Anthony hissed at her. <em>Not my fault you’re going around cursing non-local fruits, witch,</em> he tried to say.</p><p>           “No, but you should know better,” she countered, folding her arms and approaching with a sigh, black pointed boots crunching louder as she drew near.</p><p>           <em>Can she hear me?</em> He thought frantically, arching a bit to keep a wary eye on her.</p><p>           “Duh, idiot,” she answered as she crouched to look at him, eye-to-eye. From up close, he could see the mark of the witch in her eyes, that sparkle of starlight nestled in dark brown, reflecting on her autumnal skin. She squinted at him.</p><p>           <em>So, cursed by a witch now, </em>Anthony, ah, thought in her general direction, hoping that was how this telepathy thing functioned. <em>I know how this works. There’s probably something you want me to do for you to break the spell, right? </em>He wasn’t completely inept on how this sort of interaction went down.</p><p>           She sniffed haughtily. “I didn’t curse you. You ate my apple, which I’m still peeved about, by the way. I’ve been growing them with an experimental magic that wasn’t finished fermenting yet. They weren’t ready to actually curse anyone for a few months, at least.”</p><p>           Anthony flicked his tongue at her. She smelled like lavender and parsley. <em>Oh, so sorry about your dumb apple. Wish I could offer to help but I am currently a damn snake.</em></p><p>“Stop complaining. You’re the one who’s stolen from my tree.”</p><p>
  <em>           Okay, okay, sorry or whatever. Will you just turn me back then and we can go on our merry way?</em>
</p><p>           The witch rolled her eyes and picked Anthony up suddenly, without warning. He instinctually coiled his tail around her arm for security.</p><p>           <em>What are you doing? Unhand me, witch!</em></p><p>           “Shut up and stay still. You’re going to let me poke and prod and invade your privacy so I can see how the effects of my magic are coming along, as payment, and then I’ll see if I can fix you.”</p><p>
  <em>           No way! Let me go!</em>
</p><p>           “You’d rather live as a snake the rest of her your life?” She stopped a couple steps from the door to look down at him draped over her arms, coiled at her elbow and looking as put-out as a snake’s face could. “Or perhaps find some other witch to try and dismantle my invented magic? Oh, how wise, little serpent.”</p><p>           <em>Fine, fine whatever. Just get on with it.</em> He did not like this witch one bit.</p><p>           “The feeling is quite mutual,” she said, his last thought having apparently been louder than he’d meant.</p><p>           <em>Any way you can make it so I can talk instead of letting you steal the thoughts right out of my skull?</em> He asked.</p><p>           “Sure. I don’t like it much, either. Your head is a mess. Do you ever have a coherent thought? Such as ‘don’t eat the witch’s apple in the woods’?”</p><p>           Anthony hissed at her to minimal affect. Azra would’ve liked the witch, he could tell.</p><p>           “Oh, would he now? Who’s Azra?” the witch asked as she set Anthony on the table and gathered some horrific-looking tools and nondescript stones. That was less than comforting. “These won’t hurt you, by the way.”</p><p>           <em>Stop riffling through my head, witch.</em></p><p>           “It’s Anathema,” she huffed, scraping a stool across the dirt floor to sit and crack a leather-bound book to a page marked with a string. It smelled of ink galls and appeared to be a diary of records of some sort, notes on her magic, he surmised. “And it’s not my fault you project your thoughts so loudly. Now answer my question.”</p><p>           <em>Azra is my friend</em>, he told her noncommittally. She didn’t need to know Anthony was also in love with this Azra and had been since they’d met as children.</p><p>           She grinned at him. He realized belatedly what she must have heard.</p><p>           “Soooo,” she drawled, leaning on her chin, and grinning mischievously. Oh, he really didn’t like her. “Tell me about your lover, little snake.”</p><p>           <em>The name is Crowley</em>, he told her. <em>That’s what </em>you<em> can call me, anyway. And no, I’m not talking about Azra and he is not my lover and stop</em> looking<em> at me like that!</em></p><p>           She hummed. “I can work with this,” she murmured, still smiling. “Do you want to know what curse I’ve been working with on this apple tree, Crawly?”</p><p>           <em>Crowley</em>, he corrected.</p><p>           “I know. It was a joke.”</p><p>           <em>Haha, you’re hilarious, </em>he deadpanned.<em> What’s the cure, then?</em></p><p>           The witch’s expression was downright evil. “You’ve heard of True Love’s Kiss, haven’t you?”</p><p>           Anthony stared at her. If he’d had eyebrows instead of being a snake, they’d have touched his hairline. <em>You’ve got to be kidding me.</em></p><p>           “Nope!” she said gleefully, leaning back to clap her hands together excitedly. “So many stories on witches and curses, and all of them have True Love’s Kiss. But the thing that any witch will tell you is that True Love’s Kiss isn’t real magic that exists – <em>yet</em>, anyway. There is no historical documentation of this spell and it appears to be entirely the invention of human cultures, with no basis in genuine witchcraft practice.”</p><p>           Anthony groaned – tried to, anyway, but most petulant human sounds just translated into hisses. She sounded like Azra when he read a new book on some topic that he found interesting but that literally no one else cared about, especially not Anthony.</p><p>           Nevermind that he always listened with rapt attention and committed Azra’s every motion to memory, savoring the interaction like the besotted serpent he was. Shut up.</p><p>           Anathema was still talking, much to his chagrin. “…Originates in the northern kingdom around the time of the Angel Wars and the myth appears to have traveled toward us, the eastern kingdom, due to trade routes bargained afterward in the treatises…are you falling asleep?”</p><p>           Anthony regarded her from where his head was slumped against the table. G<em>et to the point, witch girl.</em></p><p>           She glared at him. “This is fascinating history, you know.”</p><p>           <em>Yeah, yeah, so interesting, great. Can we please talk about things that actually relate to the current situation of me being a snake?</em></p><p>           “Alright,” she conceded with an annoyed eye roll. “Anyway, so this tree was my attempt at trying to recreate this mythical magic. Because it’s never actually existed, I had to start from null and invent it myself. And <em>that’s</em> what those apples are.”</p><p>           He looked up at her with the serpentine equivalent of a frown. <em>Then why am I snake? What does that have to do with dumb fairytale clichés?</em></p><p>           “Oh, well, you need something for True Love’s Kiss to cure, don’t you?” she explained incredulously. “And I couldn’t decide what the apple would turn the specimen – that’s you – into, then I saw snake during my walk and figured, why not?”</p><p>           <em>Because being a snake is miserable,</em> he replied, aiming for nonchalant and landing somewhere left of it as panic started to rise in him. True Love’s Kiss. Of course, it was. Oh, Azra was going to have a fit about all this, and Anthony was going to be a snake forever if Anathema wasn’t able to fix him first!</p><p>           “Right, you drama queen. I’m going to inspect you now and make sure you’re a normal snake and everything, see if there’s any side effects I could use to improve my research, then we’ll get on with it. Have some patience.” Anathema wrote a couple notes in her book before reaching over and lightly grabbing his jaw, examining him from side to side.</p><p>           It went on like this for some time, Anathema occasionally asking questions about how certain things felt when she manhandled him, and whether he was cold or hungry or whatever. She told him he was a northern fire snake, by all appearances. Nonvenomous – unfortunately, he lamented – and roughly twice the length from Anathema’s shoulder to the tips of her fingers. He appeared to be in perfect health.</p><p>           Afterward, as promised, she tried numerous spells, powders, enchantments, and tricks to remove the curse. Midday dwindled to evening and Anathema lit a couple lanterns around the room, casting it in an eerie yellow glow with deep shadows.</p><p>           “Well, I don’t know what to tell you,” she said exhaustedly, slumping back into her stool and propping her chin on her folded arms over the table. Anthony peered at her from his coil in front of her. “I did a good job on that curse, looks like. Guess it didn’t need those few months, after all. Minor miscalculation on my part.”</p><p>           Anthony had already given up hours ago as Anathema continued to putter about and toss substances on him and have him move this way and that. She kneaded healing stones into his back at one point and he insisted he thought it was helping because honestly, it just felt really good, like a massage.</p><p>           Now, curled on her splintery table and seeing the defeat in her eyes, the last sliver of hope vanished, and he hissed a sigh.</p><p>           “Oh, I can made it so you can talk, though. Forgot to do that earlier,” she said, lifting her head and wearily grasping at a bottle somewhere on the floor. “To other people, that is. I’m a witch, so it’s different. You get it.” Popping the cork, she dripped a single drop into a small dish and placed it before him. Anthony had long since given up asking what she was feeding and using on him, so he simply flicked his tongue out and drank it. It was sour.</p><p>           “Ssssssso, you can’t read my mind now, yessssss?” he heard himself saying, unable to bite back the sibilant hiss. His voice sounded like is own, but perhaps a bit higher and a bit thick around the fangs and a mouth not made for human speech.</p><p>           “I could if I wanted to,” she commented airily, waving her hand before slumping back down with a yawn. “But I really don’t. Seriously, do you ever think about anything that isn’t Azra? It’s exhausting.”</p><p>           “You were looking at my thoughtsssss while you experimented on me?” he accused.</p><p>           “Not too much,” she said, oblivious or perhaps apathetic to his anger. “Just enough to see that you’re dead gone on him.” She yawned again. “I don’t even know why I was trying so hard. Honestly, you get Azra to kiss you and you’ll be back in an instant. Not a doubt in my mind.”</p><p>           Anthony coiled tighter. “He doesssssn’t love me back. Doesn’t True Love’sssssss Kissssss have to be requited?” He made a mental note to avoid words with an “s” from now on. That hiss was so annoying to control. He promptly forgot about this, as he did most of his mental notes. Perhaps he ought to try a filing system rather than pasting loose scraps of half-formed thoughts to the edges of his consciousness and hoping they’d stick.</p><p>           “It does need to be both ways,” she conceded with a weary nod. “Still, I’ve done my best. It’s nighttime now, so you’re free to stay here until morning if you want, but no longer than that. Remember that you’re cold blooded now, which means you need external heat sources and you digest slowly. Eat a rodent every, oh, five days or so. When you shed, you’ll be temporarily blind and very itchy, so probably get some help for that so nothing eats or kills you.”</p><p>           “Thanksss, Mom,” he replied petulantly.</p><p>           She rolled her eyes and fell asleep at the table.</p><p>           Anthony waited until he was sure she was completely under and slithered to the floor with a satisfying plop. He wasn’t tired; perhaps he was a nocturnal snake. He honestly couldn’t tell. But after staying still so long, he needed to move – no matter how strange it felt to crawl on his belly, undulated across the forest floor like a…like a…well, like a snake, he figured.</p><p>           He slipped under the large crack at the bottom of the door into the night. He could see even in the darkness and, while the angle cast the forest in a new perspective, he felt confident he could find his way back to the palace, regardless. It wasn’t too far, and he got used to the movement faster than expected. He was grateful for the sticky, warm summer nights in a way he never had, before.</p><p>           As he travelled, he fretted. Anthony J. Crowley did not fret, by nature, but by nature, Anthony J. Crowley was not a snake. At the current moment, Anthony J. Crowley was a snake, and so, Anthony J. Crowley did, indeed, fret. He was a snake, and he was stuck as a snake unless he could cure it with True Love’s Kiss because the universe apparently had a personal vendetta against him.</p><p>           He already knew he was hopelessly and one-sidedly in love with a prince. There was really no need for his very skin – er, scales – to remind him that he was pathetically besotted and that Azra saw him as nothing more than a friend.</p><p>           He loved being Azra’s friend. He always had. He was his only friend, really, and they’d clicked when they were young, back when Anthony was brought on with his guardian, who’d plucked him from an orphanage and raised him as an unofficial apprentice. Her name was Marjorie and she had raised him like a son; they even had nearly matching auburn hair, so he was often mistaken for such and he never corrected them.</p><p>           And when she’d passed away a few springs ago, Azra had been there, a constant comfort at his side during the loss and the occupational transition from apprentice to an official gardener under hire by the queen. It hadn’t been an easy time, but Azra’s friendship helped.</p><p>           Ultimately, the changes gave him more excuses to see Azra, and working in the gardens helped him feel close to Marjorie. It was nice. Sure, there were talks about getting Azra engaged soon to a prince or princess abroad, and he was tormented by members of the staff who disliked him for being so favored by the prince. Harry and Liam were especially insufferable.</p><p>           But it was worth it. It had always been worth it, because he got to stay by Azra’s side and see him nearly every day. He would have ridden through fire for him and gathered the stars if he asked, so snide comments and pranks from people who didn’t matter…it wasn’t important.</p><p>           And now. Now, he was a snake, which he still could hardly comprehend but was slowly settling into. Sure, people got cursed into animals now and again, and it was pretty common knowledge that one ought to be polite to animals you didn’t know in case it was actually a person still working out their cure, but he’d never thought it would happen to <em>him.</em></p><p>           Isn’t that how it goes?</p><p>           Dawn was arising, golden and orange in streaks he couldn’t quite discern, by the time Anthony was approaching the large pearly gates of the castle. The imposing, cathedral-like palace gleamed white and silver even in the sunrise, giving it a nearly ethereal impression. He bypassed the grounds without much of a glance and slithered around to the servant’s entrance, where he knew the door was almost constantly flung open and he could gain entry.</p><p>           It was barely day, but a servant’s day starts before the sun, so there was already enough activity for Anthony to slip in, unnoticed. He had one goal only and that was to get to Azra. Azra was the smartest person he knew, and if anyone would know a way around this curse, it was him. Brilliant, wonderful Azra, who read like books were going out of fashion even though they already had, Azra who liked him and kept him around as a friend despite every reason not to.</p><p>           Yes, Azra would help him. Even if he couldn’t do it the way Anthony wished he would.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>           Azra was fretting.</p><p>           Unlike Anthony, Azra was most assuredly prone to fretting. By nature, as surely as Crown Prince Azra Eden Fell of the Eastern Kingdom was human, so too was Crown Prince Azra Eden Fell of the Eastern Kingdom, by nature, a fretter.</p><p>           And his best friend had been missing since yesterday afternoon.</p><p>           He’d gone to meet Anthony at their usual spot by the rose trellis. He remembered how they used to play there as children, hiding in the many bushes and Anthony would whisper to Azra all about the roses and how he helped his Madame Marjorie grow them. He told Azra how he watered them and pruned them once he was big enough to carry the clipping shears, and he would brag whenever he got an injury, like it was proof of a brave battle.</p><p>           Azra loved the roses. He was a romantic at heart and grew up on a thousand fairytales and romance stories from the moment he could read, and roses were undeniably romantic.</p><p>           Anthony had boasted that one day, he would run the whole garden, and he’d put Azra’s roses all over the grounds. Those were simpler times. Well, they seemed simpler, at any rate; a luxury distinct to children who don’t yet know taxes are a thing.</p><p>           It’d been many years since then, yet Azra could remember it all so clearly. And, perhaps most importantly, he remembered that when Anthony grew older and got the run of the grounds, there had been quite an abundance of roses, all of a sudden. Anthony wasn’t the only gardener for hire, of course, but the others tended to just do what he wanted done to the place; he had the best eye for things, and they seemed to respect him for that.</p><p>           Anthony was a good friend. His very best friend, someone to rely on, and kind at heart despite his barbs. A bit like a rose himself, covered in thorns, but beautiful and soft if one got close enough.</p><p>           Possibly someone to harbor a minor, teensy tiny crush toward, maybe a bit.</p><p>           But Azra was a prince and, more to the point, Anthony did not see him that way, so he was contented with their close friendship. That didn’t mean he didn’t daydream about being with Anthony among the roses again, perhaps holding hands and whispering romantic words like lovers in a storybook. He did so love his books, after all.</p><p>           But the day prior, when he’d gone to the rose gardens – the first one, that is, not all the ones extended across the grounds – Anthony was nowhere to be seen, and he had not appeared after hours of waiting there (reading a book he always carried on his person, just in case). By supper time, he was well and truly worrying himself into a proper fret. He asked the servants and other gardeners if they’d seen him, but no one had spoken to Anthony since at least noon.</p><p>           It wasn’t the first time Anthony had disappeared, to be totally fair. Despite everything, he was still a mysterious bloke sometimes, and Azra wasn’t always sure where he went and what he got up to. He sometimes wondered if he had a lover down in the village that he was visiting – he knew he didn’t have family to see – but he tried very hard not to think about that, nor <em>why</em> he hated thinking about it.</p><p>           Still, Anthony had done this before, so even as Azra fretted, he elected to trust that his friend was alright and would show back up, as he always did, to tease Azra for being concerned.</p><p>           When he awoke the next day at dawn, having never been one to sleep in, Azra shot up immediately, determined to confirm that Anthony had, at the very least, come back to his sleeping quarters at some time in the night. Oh, he’d <em>better</em> have! If Anthony was still missing, he was going to be so very upset with him for running off. He tried not to let his imagination run away with images of dangerous warlocks kidnapping unsuspecting gardeners and isolating them in towers or cursing them to an eternal rest behind a palace of brambles…maybe that was a touch unreasonable.</p><p>           He swung his legs over the edge off the mattress, brushing aside the covers to stand, at precisely the same moment that he noticed the black snake on the end of his bed.</p><p>           He nearly screamed just at the shock of it, and as it was, he barely managed to stop himself from faceplanting into the ground with the full body jolt he gave. “What in the Heavens?” he exclaimed, wide-eyed, a hand to his heart.</p><p>           He watched in confusion and surprise as the snake lifted its head and looked at him, apparently perking up at the sight. “Sssso, Azra, don’t freak out,” it said.</p><p>           It <em>said.</em></p><p>           It spoke. To him. The snake. On his bed.</p><p>           Azra blinked rapidly, mind connecting the dots at a rapid pace. First, he knew what a talking animal meant. It meant that a witch or otherwise magical individual had cursed or enchanted a human into the body of an animal. So, this snake on his bed was actually a human, cursed to a serpent’s body.</p><p>           The second important thing he noticed was that Anthony was the only person who didn’t address him as <em>Prince</em> Azra, and the snake also had Anthony’s voice.</p><p>           In a matter of seconds, he was pressing a hand to his lips to suppress the chuckles that involuntarily spilled out, anyway. “Anthony, you’ve gotten yourself cursed!” he exclaimed in amusement. “Anthony, you’re a <em>snake!”</em></p><p>           “Hey, don’t laugh at me!” the poor snake hissed in reply, slithering over to regard him at eye level. “Thissss issss extremely misssserable, and I can’t ssstop hissssing!”</p><p>           Azra only laughed harder. He had never seen such a <em>petulant</em> snake in his life and likely never would. Azra made an effort to sober himself, for the sake of his friend’s sensibilities. “I’m sorry, Anthony,” he said, unable to cease smiling. “It’s just…how exactly did you get yourself into this situation?”</p><p>           “It’sss not my fault!” he replied with a pout, or the snake version of one, shifting his coils closer to Azra. “Well. Er. ‘S technically my fault. But the witch should’ve had a sssign or sssomething. How wass I meant to know the apple was cursed?”</p><p>           Azra ate this information up like the scholar he was. “Cursed apples?” he echoed. “Fruit is an uncommon avenue for enchantments due to the finicky nature of their natural nutrients, despite their commonality in storybooks, which can clash with the ingredients used to make a curse effective…” he trailed off, tapping his lip thoughtfully. “It’s definitely unconventional.”</p><p><em>           “That’sssss</em> what you’re caught up on?” Anthony said. Azra had the distinct impression that the snake would have rolled his eyes if he was able.</p><p>           “Well, occult practices are fascinating. I wish I had more books on the matter.”</p><p>           “You have more bookssss on sssssspells than Anathema did!”</p><p>           “Anathema?”</p><p>           “The witch. Who cursed me.”</p><p>           “Mmm, interesting! I’d love to talk to her sometime.”</p><p>           Anthony laid his head atop his own mass of black and red coils. “’Coursssse you would. I’m a sssssnake, but you just want a conversssation with a witch in the foressst. Of <em>course</em>.”</p><p>           “Oh, stop being so theatrical,” Azra chided with a wave of the hand. “There are plenty of ways to break animal curses. Surely she told you a bit about the methodology?”</p><p>           Anthony looked up at him a bit sadly. “She tried all sssssorts of sssstuff. Everything she knew to do, but nothing worked. She ssssaid it’s magic she made.”</p><p>           Azra frowned. “Well, maybe there’s something <em>you</em> need to do instead. That is more traditional.”</p><p>           Anthony shifted uncomfortably and hid his head under his coils.</p><p>           “…Anthony. You know what you need to do, don’t you?”</p><p>           A pause. “Perhapssssss.”</p><p>           “Well, tell me, then!”</p><p>           Anthony gave a beleaguered glare at him, shifting enough to peer from under a coil draped across his head. “It’s a new magic she was making that would be cured by True Love’ssss Kissss.”</p><p>           Azra’s jaw dropped before a grin spread across his face. “Oh, that’s amazing! Just like in the stories! I always thought it wasn’t real.”</p><p>           “’Ssss not,” Anthony said, retreating back under himself. “She said ‘sss a myth that humans made. She jussst wanted to try making it real, and she sssssaid that sssssince nothing else worked, that’ssss the only way to cure me.”</p><p>           Azra took this in as his heart sank a bit from the high of learning about new magic. It was amazing that a witch had managed to create this based purely on human speculations, as he surmised, but more pressing than that was…well.</p><p>           “And True Love’s Kiss needs to be, well, both ways, yes?” he asked softly.</p><p>           “Requited,” Anthony confirmed in a dour tone.</p><p>           “Well,” Azra said, trying not think too hard about how much he hated the thought, “do you know of anyone who might be able to help you with that?”</p><p>           This pause went on for so long, Azra thought Anthony hadn’t heard him. Finally, he answered, very quietly, “No, there’sss no one.”</p><p>           Azra huffed. “Surely there’s someone you love, Anthony. Don’t you, I dunno, have someone in town?”</p><p>           Anthony shot up at that. “In town? Why would I have sssomeone in town?”</p><p>           Azra shrugged, trying not to make his mixture of relief and guilt apparent. Relief for knowing he didn’t have a lover, guilt for knowing that fact could be to Anthony’s detriment. “Just asking. We need to explore all our options.”</p><p>           Anthony regarded him. Perhaps it was the eye contact with his serpentine eyes that caused Azra to feel so seen, and he wondered briefly if Anthony could see what he was thinking.</p><p>           The fact was that no matter how much he denied it to himself, Azra was in love with Anthony. He couldn’t remember when it had happened, really. They’d been friends for so long, almost like siblings, but one day he looked over at his friend, at his blazing hair tied back in a braid, the lean muscles streaking with dirt as he worked, his laughter as he turned those piercing amber eyes on him, and he’d had decidedly unsibling-like thoughts in his direction.</p><p>           Such as how desperately he wanted to kiss him.</p><p>           He hadn’t. Obviously. It was one thing for a prince to mingle with the commoners and the staff, and quite another to go marrying them. It wasn’t the done thing. Not entirely unheard of, especially with the increasing number of peasants marrying royalty in stories, helping to spread more awareness of the classism of the monarchic institutions. Still, he feared what his mother, the queen, would say. She wanted him married to some princess named Michael, daughter of King Gabriel. Princess Michael was nice enough, but he didn’t want to marry her.</p><p>           He wanted to marry Anthony.</p><p>           Begrudgingly, on occasion, he was able to admit that to himself, but he was convinced it was something he could not have, and he needed to serve his kingdom first. Marrying Princess Michael would bolster connections and seal the alliance between their kingdoms. It would be a massive boon.</p><p>           Still, the romantic in his heart pleaded for a marriage of love, and that was only possible with the gardener who had his heart and didn’t want it.</p><p>           And who was also currently a snake.</p><p>           He shook his head, returning to the more pressing dilemma of Anthony’s serpentine self. “Right. Well, Anthony, I think I should look through my books and see what I can find,” Azra said. “Surely there will be something we can try, if you don’t think you can cure it through the, ah, expected means.”</p><p>           Anthony looked at him hopefully. “Okay, let’ssss.” And he flicked his tongue at him. It was weirdly adorable, but then, all snakes were. He wondered for a fleeting moment if Anthony would have to eat rodents now, and immediately banished the image. He was suddenly very grateful he was not the one cursed with a snake’s metabolism.</p><p>           “I’ll just get dressed and we can head to the library,” Azra said, rising and crossing the room to his chest of daywear, plucking whatever was on top. He was never terribly troubled about whether he matched, especially not now when there was research to be done. His nightgown was halfway off him before he remembered the snake on his bed was most decidedly not a snake but the man he was in love with and felt the blush down to his toes.</p><p>           He glanced to Anthony hurriedly. The snake’s head was tucked inside his coils and facing away from him. Azra breathed a sigh of relief and silently appreciated Anthony’s natural respect for his privacy.</p><p>           When he finished, he held his arm out to Anthony with a lift of the eyebrows, and the snake obligingly slithered and wrapped himself in two loops around Azra’s neck, tail coiled loosely about his upper arm. It was a strange weight, and heavy enough that he probably couldn’t carry Anthony this way for long, but it was also comforting. Like being wrapped up in a hug, warm and safe. He supposed Anthony must’ve felt similarly, for he settled in and looked quite content.</p><p>           Maybe it should’ve been a bit more awkward to have his snake crush dangling from his shoulders, head tucked up under his chin, but it was hard to be anything but pleased that he was able to help Anthony, even just a little.</p><p>           In the hallway, they passed a black-haired servant who screeched at the sight of the snake, dropping their tray and bolting. “Bea!” their friend laughed as she gathered the tray. Bowing to the prince once she stood, she added, “Oh, so sorry about that, your highness. Um. What’s with the snake, if I may ask?”</p><p>           “Oh, this is the gardener, Anthony,” he told her simply. He wasn’t one for secrets, and there wasn’t a reason to keep it, really. “He got turned into a snake, so I’ll be helping him regain his human form.”</p><p>           “Oh, that’s nice of you, your highness,” she replied. She didn’t seem surprised that he was helping him – Azra and Anthony’s friendship was hardly unknown to the staff – and gave them a knowing look Azra didn’t understand a bit. “Will you take your meals in the library, then?”</p><p>           “Yes, that would be lovely. Thank you, Diane.”</p><p>           “I’ll spread the word.” She bowed again and they continued down the hall.</p><p>           Azra spent the rest of that day and the next in the library, pouring over books. He started with the more scientific ones on occult practices, the spell books and documentation of historic enchanters. He studied ancient runes and read long rambling records on famous practitioners of witchcraft. Nothing he found was helpful.</p><p>           After that, he changed tactics and pulled out every storybook he owned that featured True Love’s Kiss. There were a lot, and they were all fictional. He reread them, looking through carefully for any mention of alternate curing methods or loopholes, exploring under the assumption and hope that this witch, Anathema, had based her magical experimentation on the storybooks.</p><p>           The only thing he found was one consistent rule: True Love’s Kiss was the only cure.</p><p>           He leaned back in his chair at the end of the third day of solid research and reading. Anthony had spent every minute with him there, alternatingly on his shoulders, coiling on his feet, or basking in the sunlight from the arched windows. He’d tried to help right at first, but quickly discovered that snake eyes couldn’t read the words. Azra found a book on reptiles and the section for snakes explained how their eyes struggled to focus on anything that wasn’t moving, so Anthony contented himself to be moral support.</p><p>           But after all that, it was for naught, because absolutely nothing he’d tried or come across worked, and all the stories pointed in one direction. Toward one cure. And it was the one that they could not use, for Anthony, apparently, loved no one in that way.</p><p>           It was painful to know that, not only because it only confirmed that Anthony did not return his feelings, but more so because his poor friend, with his brilliant hands and cunning fingers, arms that toiled and mouth that smirked at him so mischievously, hair bright red and legs that carried him to and fro…all of that was gone. Anthony was stuck as a snake, perhaps forever.</p><p>           “I’m so sorry, Anthony,” Azra muttered sadly, gently running his fingers over the glistening black scales of the snake wrapping in his lap. Anthony looked up at him and flicked his tongue, as he seemed wont to do whenever he was near Azra. “I can’t find anything.”</p><p>           Anthony leaned his head into Azra’s palm and nuzzled it slightly. “Thankssss for trying,” he replied gently, not so much disappointed as resigned. “Guesssss I’ll jusssst have to get ussssed to thissss.”</p><p>           Azra furrowed his eyebrows in frustration. “Are you absolutely certain there is no one who-“</p><p>           “There’s not,” Anthony interrupted testily.</p><p>           “So, you really don’t love anyone?” Azra said, a bit more accusingly than he’d intended.</p><p>           Anthony’s coils shifted. “I didn’t say that. But they would need to love me back.”</p><p>           Azra’s heart went out for his friend, all the tension he harbored evaporating as he realized they both were victims of an unrequited love. How could the world be this way, where lovers must cross paths and yet never meet in the middle? Why couldn’t it be simple, like in all the stories? It was not the fault of the recipient, of course – they could not help who fell for them. And he could never ask anything of Anthony that he was not comfortable with, especially knowing that Anthony did have someone he loved, somewhere. Some person wonderful enough to deserve Anthony’s affection, someone so amazing even Anthony J. Crowley, cunning gardener, jubilant friend, mischievous partner, and love of his life, had been captured.</p><p>           Just as Azra had by Anthony.</p><p>           Anthony deserved better than this, and Azra wanted to help him no matter what.</p><p>           And that’s when an idea struck him. He wasn’t sure Anthony would approve, but he had to try, for his sake.</p><p>           Azra gave a long-suffering sigh, a bit orchestrated. “Let’s retire for the day, Anthony. There’s nothing more to be done here.” Anthony agreed wordlessly as he looped around Azra’s shoulders, which he did whenever they moved around the castle, and the two found their way through the castle back to Azra’s rooms. He could tell Anthony was half asleep already and settled him comfortably by the pillows on his bed, where the late afternoon sunlight streamed in, illuminating specks of magical dust and bathing his scales in warmth.</p><p>           “I’m going to go out and…well, I’ll be back in a bit. You stay here,” Azra said, giving one last pat to Anthony’s back.</p><p>           He slipped out the door silently and headed for the forests.</p><p>           The way was longer than he’d expected, but nonetheless easy to track by the footsteps and general description Anthony had given him when explaining how he came across the witch. Never one to pass up an opportunity to engage in storybook frivolities, he dropped breadcrumbs as he walked along, leaving a trail to follow back that, if real life was to follow convention, he was quite sure would be eaten up by the time he was to return home.</p><p>           He knew these woods well, regardless. He had always loved the wild forests.</p><p>           He came across the tiny cottage in due time, and sure enough, there was an apple tree beside it. Politely ignoring the strange metalwork and gemstones strewn across the clearing, he knocked on the door.</p><p>           It swung open a moment later, and the woman he assumed to be the witch appeared, hair pulled back in a bun and thick black wire frames perched on her nose. The instant she saw him, her eyebrows shot up.</p><p>           “You’re not the prince, by any chance?” she asked in disbelief.</p><p>           “Ah, yes, I am,” he replied, having been so caught up that he forgot to disguise himself as a peasant as he’d planned to. “No need for formalities, though. I’m here to seek your guidance.”</p><p>           She squinted at him. “Prince Azra. I should’ve known. Not many people named Azra.” She didn’t seem to be addressing him so much as mumbling to herself. “So, how’s your bratty boyfriend?”</p><p>           Azra felt himself go pink. “My – my what?”</p><p>           She rolled her eyes. “Oh, Gods Above and Below. Not you, as well.”</p><p>           “Whatever are you talking about?”</p><p>           She leaned against the doorframe, apparently having no intention of letting him in. Azra tried not to take offense. “You’re here for my help, my <em>guidance</em>, on getting Anthony back, right?”</p><p>           He nodded.</p><p>           “Right. Well, here’s my advice: stop being such a coward.”</p><p>           He stared at her. “I…you…explain yourself. Please.”</p><p>           She sighed and rubbed at her temples. “Look, I’m sorry about the apple business. He wasn’t supposed to get cursed and if I could have cured him, I would have already. But I did my job and I did it well. I assume he’s told you the cure?”</p><p>           “Yes,” Azra said, “But-“</p><p>           “But nothing!” she exclaimed, causing Azra to jump. “I’m not going to tell you how Anthony feels because that’s his damn job, but you are literally the only person who can help him, so have a little courage! What are you doing <em>here?”</em></p><p>           Azra stared at her as a hope swelled in his chest. No, no, it couldn’t be. She was just a random witch, what did she know about Anthony’s feelings? But she had known of his immediately, even buried so deep as they were, and if what she was saying was true-</p><p>           Did Anthony…?</p><p>           No, he couldn’t let himself hope too much, or the crushing disappointment…it would break him.</p><p>           “I – ah. I’ll be going, then. Thank you for your time,” Azra said a bit distantly.</p><p>           The witch – Anathema was her name, wasn’t it? – smiled at him gently, to Azra’s surprise. “Go get your serpent, your highness. Though I suspect the breadcrumbs have been eaten by the squirrels by now.”</p><p>           Azra smiled at her in return and bid her farewell. Sure enough, the bread trail was long gone with only a few specks here and there, but he knew the way, regardless. But he didn’t know what to think, whether to hope, what to conclude from his brief but informative encounter with the witch. But he decided that, before he could lose his courage, he was going to at least…try. If Anthony didn’t love him back, then that was that, but at least he would know he had done all he could. <em>Courage</em>, she had said. Courage.</p><p>           Yes, Azra would help him. Maybe a one-sided love was enough, he told himself. It was worth trying, for Anthony’s sake.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>           Anthony woke up alone.</p><p>           This wasn’t necessarily a new occurrence. He slept alone in a cot all his own and woke up by himself every morning. He hadn’t woken up next to anyone since Marjorie passed, and he was quite used to the sensation by now.</p><p>           However, the past three days had apparently uprooted two years of routine, as he found himself stretching out his tail to find Azra’s arm before he was even fully awake. Azra had been generous in allowing Anthony to sleep on his gigantic bed while in snake form, insisting that because he was cold-blooded, he wanted Anthony near a heat source at night. He told Anthony to lay by him as needed and to make himself comfortable, softie that he was.</p><p>           Anthony obliged – purely so Azra wouldn’t worry, of course – and spent his nights touching Azra as much as he could without feeling like he was making him uncomfortable. Secretly, he wished he could do this while he was a human, but he knew Azra would never have allowed it.</p><p>           It was just pity, he supposed. Azra was too kind for his own good, allowing a servant to sleep in his bed like this while they dealt with his curse. Even if they were friends, Anthony never could forget the social barrier between them, and Azra didn’t either. They were careful to keep themselves just distant enough so as not to offend the proprieties of their social status, though Anthony secretly didn’t care what anyone thought of their friendship.</p><p>           That was what made this so special to him, really. Azra had…let him in, in a way. Just to help him, of course, but still. Anthony couldn’t help but feel unworthy of the attention, and grateful for it like the dead gone, head-over-heels – head-over-tail? – fool he was.</p><p>           Nonetheless, in the dead of night as he slowly awoke, he stretched out for Azra’s touch until he found himself trailing across the whole width of the bed, unbroken by a sleeping lump of prince. Azra was gone.</p><p>           His head bolted up, and he slithered over the edge of the bed with a <em>thunk</em> on floorboards, looking about the room for any sign of him. He could see through the dark decently and the room was untouched, silent as the dead. There was nothing.</p><p>           He vaguely recalled Azra had said he was going to go do something before he’d left, and Anthony had been too tired to ask about it. Now he was gone.</p><p>           Before Anthony could well and truly start worrying, the door opened with a small squeak.</p><p>           Anthony watched as Azra slipped through quickly, lantern aloft as he warily approached the bed. He looked exhausted and tense. “Anthony?” he whispered, eyes darting about the rumpling covers.</p><p>           “Down here,” he answered from the floor, coiling his tail around Azra’s leg.</p><p>           “Oh!” He looked down and regarded him with wide eyes, cast in yellow by the fire in the lamp. “What’re you doing on the floor?”</p><p>           “Wassss gonna go look for you,” Anthony mumbled as Azra lifted him back up onto the bed, the light set on the side table. Anthony could manage it himself but was quite content to let Azra manhandle him. “You were gone.”</p><p>           “I’m sorry,” Azra said softly as he took off his outer layers and sat on the edge of the bed beside the loosely draped snake. Anthony flicked his tongue out. Azra smelled like parchment and pastry cream, and he couldn’t resist smelling him like this. It was easily the best part about being a snake, aside from Azra being more willing to touch him in this form. “The truth is,” he continued, “I went to speak with Anathema.”</p><p>           “You <em>what?”</em> Anthony exclaimed. “Why would you do that?!”</p><p>           “I wanted to know if she had any ideas on anything else that we could try,” Azra told him, hands fidgeting in his lap. He seemed nervous, though Anthony could hardly fathom why.</p><p>           “And did she?”</p><p>           “Well.” Azra took a deep breath and looked at him. “She gave me some advice.”</p><p>           Anthony perked up at this. “What’d she sssssay?”</p><p>           Azra adjusted himself where he sat beside Anthony’s coiled body and reached over, fingers gently grazing the side of the snake’s head as he faced him. His eyebrows were set determinedly, but his crinkled eyes betraying his nerves. “She told me to have courage,” he whispered.</p><p>           Anthony didn’t know what to make of that. “What…uh, what do you mean?” he asked, just as quiet as Azra. Oh, he was really much too close to his face to be able to think coherent thoughts. Where was this going?</p><p>           “I’m sorry about this,” he said. That was all the warning Anthony had before Azra’s lips were pressed gently against Anthony’s mouth.</p><p>           Anthony felt his body stiffen, Azra’s lips soft and yielding against the rim of his scaly jaw. Azra was <em>kissing him</em>. Kissing him, as a snake, kissing Anthony, and his lips were soft, and Anthony felt himself soaring in a spiral of confusion and ecstasy and so many questions, and Azra was <em>kissing him-</em></p><p>           Azra pulled away. It was a chaste, short kiss, but it had felt like an eternity and <em>not nearly long enough.</em> He looked breathless, despite it all, face was red as could be. Crowley knew he would be blushing furiously if he was human.</p><p>           “A-Azzzzra,” Anthony whispered, tasting the sweetness of the air as his heart swelled with so much hope and so much love, he could hardly contain it. “You…”</p><p>           But Azra looked downcast. “Oh, I’m so sorry,” he repeated. “It…it didn’t work.”</p><p>           Anthony took a moment to process that, caught up as he was. He almost didn’t care about being a snake right now because <em>Azra had kissed him.</em></p><p>           But…wait. If he had kissed him, and it didn’t work, then it hadn’t been True Love’s Kiss, after all.</p><p>           So…Azra didn’t love him.</p><p>           Then <em>why</em> had he kissed him, and why did he look like that?</p><p>           “You only kisssssssed me to try and help,” Anthony realized aloud, feeling his heart plummet and body sag against the comforter. “You don’t love me…”</p><p>           He hadn’t meant to say it aloud, but Azra sat forward quickly at that, tears in his eyes. “A-Anthony, I-“</p><p>           The snake coiled around himself. “You don’t have to explain. I get it.”</p><p>           “No, no, Anthony.” Azra’s hands cradled his body, a soft but firm pressure. His voice sounded broken. “I do love you. That’s why I had to try. I hoped so much that it would work, but I was wrong, and I’m sorry.”</p><p>           Most of this went unheard as Anthony’s brain short-circuited. What? No no no, he couldn’t have heard that right. There’s no way Azra <em>loved</em> him, that’s not – but he’d just said it, and…oh shoot, Azra loved him.</p><p>           Azra <em>loved him.</em></p><p>           And he loved Azra.</p><p>           “D-Don’t apologize, Azzzra,” Anthony found himself saying, awed, wrapping his coils in Azra’s lap until he could face him properly. Tears ran down Azra’s cheeks and Anthony flicked a tongue at them in what he hoped was a comforting gesture, salty but sweet. “Azra, I…love you, too.”</p><p>           Azra’s face did many things simultaneously. There was shock, followed by bewilderment, with a brief intermission at understanding, and a curtain call with a standing ovation at deafening happiness. A broad grin spreading across his soft lips, eyes glimmering grey with flashes of fire.</p><p>           “You do?” he implored hopefully, so quiet the snake mightn’t’ve heard if not for their proximity.</p><p>           Anthony bobbed his head in a serpentine nod, ducking a bit, shy. “For agessss, Azra.”</p><p>           “Oh, Anthony…” Azra cradled Anthony’s small head between his hands, thumbs on his snake-approximate cheeks.</p><p>           Before Azra could finish whatever it was he was going to say, the spaces between Anthony’s scales began to glow, followed by the scales themselves. The room was cast in a silvery light and Anthony could hardly comprehend the foreign sensation of limbs growing in twisting tendons from his side, body expanding, spine contracting, hair sprouting and tumbling down his back in waves. It ached, but it felt so right, and he gave himself into the sensations soaring through his veins. He closed his eyes against the light and <em>oh he had eyelids now</em> as the somewhat painful transformation left him breathless and disoriented.</p><p>           He was human again.</p><p>           When Anthony opened his eyes again, taking deep gulps of air and reaching a hand for his pounding heart, he became aware of how his body was splayed over Azra’s legs, his friend still holding Anthony’s face. And he was also, very, very grateful for his clothing.</p><p>           “A-Azra…” he said, eyes wide.</p><p>           “Anthony.” He grinned so softly, eyes crinkling and dry. “It’s you.”</p><p>           “It’s…me.” He sat up enough to not be reclining at an angle that did horrible things to his now-human spine and tentatively reach his hands out to grip at Azra’s shoulders for leverage. Because he was Anthony J. Crowley and, while not prone to fretting, most assuredly prone to self-doubt, he couldn’t resist immediately asking, “Azra, did you…did you mean what you said?”</p><p>           Azra pressed his lips together to contain a smile. It didn’t work. “May I kiss you again, properly?” he asked tenderly, not answering the question and yet answering it at the same time.</p><p>           Anthony replied without words, his preferred method of communication, and their lips met properly as they shared their second kiss of many. It was much, much nicer as a human, when he could kiss back and meet Azra’s surprising ferocity in the middle, wanting and exploratory but still a bit timid and cautious. Shy.</p><p>           Anthony’s heart pounded, and he knew he was blushing like the maidens and men and persons and lovers of the romance stories Azra so adored, and he didn’t care a twit about any of it because <em>Azra loved him.</em></p><p>           Anthony drew back with a start. “Wait, what the Hell?”</p><p>           Azra, a little dazed, blinked as his eyebrows shot up. “Excuse me?”</p><p>           “Why am I human again?”</p><p>           Azra’s eyebrows came back down. He blinked. “Ah. Um. No idea. Delayed reaction, do you suppose?”</p><p>           “Come on, that’s not how that works,” Anthony argued, gesturing with the hand that wasn’t clasping Azra’s neck <em>when did his hand move there, anyway?</em> “Have you ever read a story like that?”</p><p>           “No, it’s always instantaneous.” Azra pouted a moment <em>and</em> <em>oh wow Anthony really wanted to kiss that pout,</em> and he was much too close to be able to resist that temptation. He pecked Azra’s lips again and smirked a little when Azra blushed further.</p><p>           “I don’t care why,” Anthony admitted, drawing his fingers up to caress his love’s cheeks with calloused thumbs. “You love me,” he whispered, overcome and beyond comprehending how it could be true. “I never thought you would.”</p><p>           “I’ve loved you for years. For so long,” Azra told him, and Anthony buried his face in Azra’s neck at that, feeling much too seen and much too loved to face the world. “I probably loved you before I <em>knew</em> I did. You have always been wonderful, and I can’t remember what it felt like not to feel this way,” he continued, sounding gently amused and knowing full well what his words were doing to Anthony.</p><p>           Beautiful bastard, how he adored him.</p><p>           “Did you steal that from one of your books?” Anthony asked, a bit too breathless to manage the teasing tone he aimed for.</p><p>           “I’ll never tell.”</p><p>           Anthony smiled to himself and breathed in Azra’s scent, still parsing that same sugary aroma of desserts and the musk of the library. He didn’t have the wherewithal to wonder if this was creepy and waved it off as lingering snake instincts. He pressed a small kiss to Azra’s neck and hoped it conveyed all the things he couldn’t quite say with words, savoring Azra’s sharp inhale. Maybe he’d regain some semblance of control over human speech again later – maybe.</p><p>           After a few moments of holding each other in the hazy, placid cast of the lantern, Azra broke the silence. “Let’s go to sleep, my Anthony,” he murmured, passing a hand through Anthony’s loose hair. “It’s been a long few days, I believe.” Anthony wanted to be called that for the rest of his life. <em>Your Anthony.</em></p><p>           After changing into bedclothes, Azra lending Anthony a spare nightgown, they lay side by side. Neither was interested in the kind of things one might expect to follow declarations of love and a shared bed, but it was still a little awkward as they stared at each other across the space, unsure how to cross the distance.</p><p>           Finally, Anthony moved forward and wrapped himself around Azra, tangling their legs and settling the crown of his head in the crook of Azra’s arm, which came up around his shoulders. Azra’s free hand clasped the one Anthony had draped across the former’s stomach and twined their fingers together.</p><p>           Azra chuckled softly as Anthony burrowed himself closer. “Are you sure you’re not still a snake, Anthony?” he teased.</p><p>           “Can’t be sure,” The non-snake replied sleepily. “Maybe you’ll have to kiss me again, just to make certain.”</p><p>           He fell asleep to the soft laughter of his lover, to a small kiss on his forehead, to the beating heart below his ear, and he wondered if he should thank Anathema for having a stupid tree with cursed apples.</p>
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<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Queen Alaine had been having a relatively normal day. Her advisors were arguing about a bridge in a village in the south, and there were communications with the westward kingdom to be navigated, and her eggs were slightly overdone but salted just right. There wasn’t anything to indicate that it would be a remarkable day.</p><p>She sat at her desk in her study, responding to letters and thinking about how she could really go for some apples right now, when a soft knock came at her door.</p><p>“Enter,” she called, not looking up, assuming it to be a servant to collect her empty tray from breakfast.</p><p>“Mother,” came her son’s voice, and she turned to see him standing in the doorway hesitantly. His trousers matched his doublet, for once, and she returned his smile. He rarely visited her like this, especially without warning, and he’d been avoiding dinners for the past few days.</p><p>“Good morning, darling,” she said, accepting the hug he offered when he approached. “It’s a fine day, it seems.”</p><p>“So it is,” he replied as he wrung his hands and bit his lip. “Or, so I hope.”</p><p>Queen Alaine folded her hands in her lap and regarded her fidgeting, nervous son, recognizing that he had something he wanted to say. “Go on,” she encouraged softly. “Tell me what’s on your mind.”</p><p>He took a deep breath, absently running a hand through his cloud of curls. His eyes shifted around the room as though looking for a source of courage before finally landing on the queen’s face. “I…I’m in love,” he burst, speaking in one rushed breath, a dam released. “I’m in love with Anthony and I want to marry him and not Princess Michael or anyone else because I love him.” He heaved for air, hand to his heart, averting his eyes again as he appeared to brace himself.</p><p>Queen Alaine was a business-minded woman. She had a large and powerful country to run and could not afford to be anything but. She did not let things happen by chance, with a roll of the die and a hope for the best. She played a game of her own devising wherein she had full control over each moving part and, as such, she was one who made swift decisions that prioritized her kingdom and her people over all else.</p><p>But she realized in this moment of rare vulnerability that she did not, <em>could</em> not play games with the heart of her son, not for all the alliances and trades in the world. And she could tell that this Anthony – the gardener boy, her brain helpfully supplied – meant everything to her child. His every atom buzzed with hope and anticipation, and her heart swelled at the sight.</p><p>“Azra, look at me, darling,” she requested gently. He complied, grey eyes pleading silently. She smiled, taking his face in her hands carefully. “Go tell your Anthony that he may have you, and you him,” she said simply, kissing his forehead.</p><p>She was quite sure she had never seen true joy before that moment, when worlds of light collided in her son’s eyes, stratifying in rays of magnification, and he looked at her like she had cast the stars and crafted the very world for him.</p><p>His lip trembled. “Th-Tha…”</p><p>“Go,” she said, chuckling internally at her wonderfully emotive Azra. How had she not seen it before, how deeply he loved? He must have hidden it for so long.</p><p>Azra did not need telling twice, and he stepped back, bowed, and left the room in a rush.</p><p>The door closed softly. Muffled in the hallway, she heard a voice ask, “What’d she say?”</p><p>“Anthony, will you marry me?” was the breathless, hushed reply, and the joyous laugh that echoed through the hall so filled the queen’s heart that she knew she had made the right call.</p><p>She turned back to her desk and regarded her mail. She had a letter to write to King Gabriel, for it seemed Princess Michael would need to find another suitor.</p><p>~</p><p>Notes from Anathema’s Research Journal:</p><p>           <em>True Love’s Kiss much more difficult to emulate than previously suspected. Combination of moonstone dust and three quarters to one measure of lilac’s nectar results in Love Confession curses as confirmed by accidental specimen, Anthony and Prince Azra. Attempt with additional dosage of ground orichalcum to counterbalance the nectar’s distancing affects. Put a sign on the damn tree.</em></p><p>
  <em>           Note to self: Don’t forget about the wedding in autumn. May be able to gather further data by observing the accidental specimen in their natural environment while being sickeningly in love.</em>
</p><p>~</p><p>           And they all lived happily ever after, or something.</p><p>~THE END~</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Queen “Alaine” is in reference to Allah, AKA God, because subtlety. And yes, Diane’s name was pulled from Dagon somehow, as were Harry and Liam from Hastur and Ligur. I’m at least a little sorry.<br/>I hope you liked it! Please tell me what you think!</p>
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